


Like Destiny Inked Across Our Skin

by NamelesslyNightlock



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Tattoo Parlor, Andy | Andromache of Scythia is So Done, Attraction, Banter, Bickering, Break Up, Coffee, Couch Cuddles, Declarations Of Love, Destiny, Falling In Love, Feels, Fluff, Fluffy Ending, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Getting to Know Each Other, Happy Ending, Humor, Idiots in Love, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani Waxes Poetic About Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani and Nicky | Nicolò di Genova are in Love, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani is an Incurable Romantic, Kissing, Love Confessions, M/M, Minor Nicky | Nicolo di Genova / Other, Mutual Pining, Nicky | Nicolò di Genova Needs a Hug, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Oblivious Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani, Pining, Post-Break Up, Protective Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani, Romantic Fluff, Smile, Soft Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani, Tattoo Artist Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani, like really minor because, matching tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:27:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26795857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NamelesslyNightlock/pseuds/NamelesslyNightlock
Summary: Joe’s pretty used to people coming into the studio and asking to be inked with words they’ve clearly pulled straight off Google translate. But this guy is a little different from the others, and Joe can’t help but want to make him smile.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 77
Kudos: 713





	Like Destiny Inked Across Our Skin

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AvengersNewB](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvengersNewB/gifts), [BladeoftheNebula](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BladeoftheNebula/gifts), [FereldenTurnip](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FereldenTurnip/gifts), [arourallis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/arourallis/gifts).



> ~~There will come a day when I decide not to post something at 1am, but today is not that day~~  
>   
>  This was prompted on discord! Thank you guys for the excellent idea I had a lot of fun writing it!  
>   
> And thanks as well especially to **Rabentochter** and to **AvengersNewB** for helping with the words for the tattoos ❤︎

Even before he’d finished up the stencil for his last appointment for the day, Joe was debating what he would say to the client.

It wasn’t a walk in, but it wasn’t someone he had done a consult with either. The appointment had been booked over the counter, the design already decided. And as Joe had always said he was fine with inking Arabic, Andy had just added it to his list.

And honestly, that was fine. It was hardly the first time it had happened—not even the first time that week. But the design itself was… _odd._

Over his years working as a tattoo artist, Joe had seen plenty of people come in with a design that they had clearly taken straight off Google translate. That was just part of the job. It was his habit to offer to edit the grammar, that being far easier than dealing with an upset client later on down the track—and usually, the person would accept his suggestion. But this one… wasn’t _wrong,_ per se. It was technically correct, and looking at it, Joe couldn’t think of anything else that it might have been trying to say. At least, nothing else that made any more sense.

He just… couldn’t understand why someone would want to write _that_ permanently on their body.

And, yes, _of course_ he’d been asked to do some weird shit. He could write a book about some of the tattoos he’d given people, let alone the ones he had refused—but this wasn’t just weird, it was—

It wasn’t _really_ his place to say anything. But… he felt like he _should._

And as he looked down at the design in his hand one more time while waiting for the client to arrive… he made up his mind.

غير جدير

Yeah. He needed to at least _ask._

The man walked into the studio with a smile that could have brightened the whole room. He was pleasant, kind, and friendly, one of those people that Joe couldn’t help but immediately like. He introduced himself as Nicky, and shook Joe’s hand with a firm warmth that had Joe smiling for real, not just his usual customer-service expression.

Once they were seated either side of a table and Joe handed him the design, Nicky’s smile turned soft, but with a kind of edge to it that Joe couldn’t quite interpret.

“Yes,” Nicky said. “That’s the one. It shouldn’t take too long, should it?”

“Have somewhere else to get to?” Joe asked.

“Yeah.” The smile was still in place, but Nicky’s eyes – a bluish kind of grey colour that Joe didn’t think he’d seen before – seemed to tighten slightly. “I wanted to get this done first. I’m glad you could fit me in today.”

“I’ll be able to get you done in less than an hour,” Joe said. Then, with slightly more hesitation than he usually might, he added, “And because I have to ask… are you _sure_ that this is what you want?”

“Yes,” Nicky said again—and thankfully, he didn’t seem annoyed by the repetition.

“And you know exactly what this says?” Joe pressed.

“Of course,” Nicky said. “That’s my boyfriend’s name, in Arabic. He wrote it out for me this morning, so that it would be in his handwriting.”

Joe felt something in his chest freeze solid, and a heavy lump formed in his throat.

_Oh, shit._

Okay, so this—was not what Joe had been expecting. This wasn’t some guy having a bout of depression and giving himself a label he might later come to regret. No, this was a guy who had been completely done over.

Yeah. _Shit._

Now he _knew_ he couldn’t stay quiet, he couldn’t just let it go. But how can you even tell someone something like that?

“Are you all right?”

Joe glanced up at the sound of the voice, having looked back down at the stencil in disbelief. Nicky was staring at him, almost looking worried. He really did seem so very kind.

Shit, shit, shit.

“I was just thinking that your boyfriend’s parents must not have had high hopes for him,” Joe said carefully. “If they named him _unworthy.”_

Nicky blinked, then frowned. “What?”

“Well, that’s what this means,” Joes replied, gently smoothing out the stencil paper on the table between them. “I’m sorry, but… this isn’t a name at all.”

There was a beat of silence, a moment of calm before the storm. Joe saw the moment that it sunk in—he saw the way that Nicky’s jaw tensed, saw the way that his fingers curled tight.

Then—

“ _Unworthy,”_ Nicky whispered.

Joe felt like wincing, unsure of what he could do. Did he reach out? Did he offer sympathy? What?

But before he could decide on anything at all, Nicky was shaking his head.

“ _No,”_ Nicky said—but even without knowing him, Joe could see the complete denial in his eyes. “No, that can’t be right, he—he… _wouldn’t._ He… today’s our anniversary. Why would he want me to get _that?”_

Joe was feeling a little out of his depth, but he couldn’t just _sit_ while this poor guy had a mental breakdown. So he tossed the stencil to the side, quite sure by now that it wouldn’t be needed further.

“Listen,” he said. “Perhaps it was a mistake, maybe you need to talk to him—”

“No,” Nicky said again—but this time, the word was a groan, and was accompanied by a hand rubbing over his face. “No, it’s—I’m an idiot. I should have seen this coming, I _did_ see this coming. But I thought—he invited me to dinner tonight, my favourite restaurant. It was—” Nicky cut himself off. “ _Cazzo,_ it’s a break-up dinner, isn’t it?”

Nicky’s head went into his hands, his shoulders hunching. And again, Joe’s fingers were itching to do _something,_ but—he didn’t know this guy. Yet Nicky was clearly in pain, clearly hurting, clearly—

“Hey,” Joe said, speaking before he’d even properly finished the thought. “That guy is clearly an asshole, what kind of a dick gives someone something like that and lies about it? While hoping that they’ll _tattoo_ it?”

Joe was glad he wasn’t holding the stencil paper anymore—he probably would have destroyed it. That someone had done this to Nicky was bad enough but to use Joe’s language, Joe’s _art_ to do it? It was disgusting.

“I gave him two years,” Nicky said hoarsely, looking up at Joe with red-rimmed eyes. “Two years of my life. How _could_ he?”

“I don’t know,” Joe admitted. “I know I only just met you, but you don’t seem like you deserve that. Hell, _no one_ deserves that. A tattoo should never be _that,_ a relationship should never—” Joe cut himself off before he got too mad. He’d always been quick to anger, but he knew that would hardly help in this situation. “Sorry. I’m sorry, Nicky.”

“Don’t be. You… I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t said something.” Nicky looked down to where his hands were now curled into tight fists on top of the table. “Not everyone would have. _I’m_ sorry, for—”

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry about,” Joe cut in, meaning every word. Like, yeah, this wasn’t what he thought he’d be doing at the end of his shift, but shit, it wasn’t like he _minded._ “That fucking asshole is the one who—shit. Sorry, I have a habit of running my mouth, that’s not what you need—”

“It’s okay.” Nicky’s lips actually turned up as he spoke. “You’re helping.”

Oh. Well. That was good then.

“You know,” Nicky said, the words settling into something of a defeated tone. “I’ve always wanted a tattoo. I mentioned it a while ago, and he jokingly suggested I get his name. I’d always thought that was a bad idea but when things started to feel a bit… well, with today our anniversary, I thought it might make things better.” He let out a laugh which, to Joe’s ears, sounded closer to a sob. “Yes. Such an _idiot.”_

“No,” Joe replied—and this time, he gave in to the itch. He knew that he _shouldn’t,_ but he reached across the table and placed one of his hands on top of Nicky’s. “Not an idiot. Just an optimist, I think. Seeing good in the world and having hope is far better than being cynical.”

“Those are some pretty words,” Nicky said.

“I literally write poetry on people’s skin for a living,” Joe replied, allowing the corners of his mouth to turn up and hoping that the distraction might continue to help. “I have a reputation to uphold.”

For just a moment, those grey eyes seemed to track down across Joe’s shoulders, then traced the lines of ink that sprawled over Joe’s arms and collarbone.

“You certainly do that,” Nicky replied.

“Good,” Joe grinned.

And Nicky—he actually grinned back, though only for a fraction of a moment. Then his smile fell, and he glanced away, as if he had remembered why he was in the studio with Joe in the first place.

Joe’s smile also melted away at the thought.

“I’m sorry for ruining the appointment,” Nicky said. “I think I would have liked to see your art.”

“It was only going to be one word,” Joe offered with a shrug. “I can do far better than _that.”_

“I have no doubt.” Nicky’s eyes fell to the stencil paper which still lay on the ground. “I… I should probably pick something else. Do you have, a book, or—”

“You don’t need to get anything today.” Joe didn’t like the reluctance in Nicky’s tone. “If you’re not one hundred percent sure, I won’t do it. Not in the state you’re in right now.”

“But I had to pay a deposit,” Nicky said, his voice weak.

“That doesn’t matter,” Joe said firmly. “I’ll talk to my boss, I’ll let her know what happened—”

“Oh, please don’t—”

“Not the whole story, just that there was a mistake. I’ll tell her that I’m holding you a place. You’re sure that you still want a tattoo?”

When Nicky immediately opened his mouth, Joe arched a brow. Then, Nicky seemed to actually _consider_ his answer before—

“I think so,” Nicky said.

“Then maybe we can come up with something else for you,” Joe said. “Something better. And if you decide you definitely want it, you’ve got an appointment with me whenever you need.”

“That’s…” Nicky seemed to think for a while, his gaze somehow feeling heavy against Joe’s skin until he settled on what to say. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Joe replied. “And I mean it, okay? Phone when you’re ready, and tell whoever answers who you are. I’ll make sure the others know.”

Nicky nodded again, and then his eyes glanced to door. Joe couldn’t say entirely why, but something in his chest clenched.

“Then, I suppose I should go,” Nicky said. “Thanks again, for your time. For everything.”

And that should have been that, really. Joe should have watched him leave, should have let him go. Should have put him out of his mind. Nicky would come back eventually for a better tattoo, and they would never see each other again.

But as Nicky walked to the door, as the line of his shoulders tensed with clear discomfort and anxiety, as his hands once again curled into fists at his sides, Joe knew that he could not just let Nicky walk away.

Joe knew what it was to feel like your whole world had been turned inside out, to be so hurt that you didn’t know what to do with yourself. He knew how it felt to not want to be alone.

And there was something about Nicky which made Joe want to _help._

“Hey, Nicky?” Joe asked, getting to his feet and feeling a gush of relief as Nicky glanced back. “Coffee?”

Nicky frowned. “What?”

“Do you want to go and get a coffee?” Joe asked again. “Uh, with me?”

“Don’t you still have work?” Despite the hesitancy in his tone, Joe noticed that Nicky _had_ turned all the way back around, as if he did want to stay. Or at least, as if he didn’t want to _go._

“Well, you were my last appointment for the day,” Joe replied. “And Booker’s due to show up soon, he’ll take any walk-ins. Come on. Unless you don’t like coffee?”

“Coffee is fine.” Nicky was smiling again—not as warmly as he had been when he had walked in, but he _was_ smiling. That, Joe decided to take as a win.

“Excellent. I’m paying.”

And he couldn’t help but smile to himself as he packed up his gear to the tune of the other man’s complaints.

—~—

“I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to stand by my earlier assessment,” Joe said, staring down at the half-empty coffee cup in his hand. “This is _definitely_ disgusting.”

Nicky laughed at that, an actually adorable _snort_ escaping his mouth as he reached out to snatch his terrible awful coffee back from Joe. “You are the one who still insisted on trying it.”

“How can you _drink_ that?” Joe complained. “I think I need to wash my mouth out—”

“At least it’s still coffee,” Nicky replied. “What is that stuff you’re drinking? Sugar mixed with milk?”

“It has caffeine in it,” Joe retorted, clutching his _own_ drink to his chest. “And it doesn’t taste like paint stripper.”

“Should I be concerned that you apparently know what paint stripper tastes like?”

“Not as concerned as I am that you can drink that bitter monstrosity without flinching. What _are_ you?”

“If I told you,” Nicky deadpanned, “I am afraid that I would have to kill you.”

It was Joe’s turn to snort then, and Nicky responded with another smile.

Joe had been pleasantly surprised by how _easy_ it was to talk to Nicky. They’d got along well right from the start, talking about anything and everything _other_ than Nicky’s impending break-up. In that time, Nicky’s terrible taste in coffee was not the only thing Joe had learned about him—but it was definitely the worst.

Because Nicky—was _amazing_.

Joe had been right to think that he was kind, but he also had an excellent sense of humour, a kind of dry wit which had Joe in stitches more than once. He was the kind of person Joe could talk to for hours and yet never get bored—and, actually, they _had._ They were on their second coffees and their third lap of the park, having mutually decided that they didn’t want the time to end.

Well, Nicky probably just did not want to go home, but Joe was not about to complain. Not even as the sun began to sink and the sky started to darken.

There was something about Nicky that drew Joe in like a moth to a flame, and he hoped… he hoped that this wouldn’t be the last time he saw him.

Joe glanced back to Nicky, realising that a couple of minutes had passed since either of them had said anything. The other man was looking at his phone, a frown lining his brow.

“Everything okay?” Joe asked.

“Just checking the time,” Nicky replied, before shoving his phone back in his pocket. His tone was a little duller than it had been before.

Joe offered a sympathetic smile. “Guess that asshole can sit at a table by himself,” he said.

Nicky’s lips twitched. It was an improvement. “Guess he can. I’d certainly rather be here.”

“Me too,” Joe replied—then he stopped. “Not that I _had_ anywhere else to be, but you know what I mean.”

“I do,” Nicky grinned. “And actually, about that… I have been thinking. And I might have a new idea.”

“For the tattoo?” Joe asked, catching on.

“Yes. Nothing concrete, just… an idea. But I think I like it.”

Joe grinned back. _Here_ was the kind of chance he had been hoping for. “I can check the books tomorrow, see if there’s a slot free in the next couple of weeks so you have some time to think it over? I’ll call you.”

“All right,” Nicky agreed. Then he held out his hand. “I’ll give you my number.”

Joe pulled out his phone, but hesitated. “Didn’t you leave your number at the studio?” he asked.

“I did,” Nicky replied. But he didn’t draw back his hand, and Joe found his smile softening as he gave Nicky his phone—and then it widened when he saw Nicky send a text to himself so that he would have Joe’s number as well.

In fact… despite the circumstances in which they had met, Joe realised that he had been smiling rather a lot, in the time he’d spent with Nicky.

—~—

When Andy told Joe that Nicky was on his list of consults for the day a couple of weeks later, she seemed to feel the need to follow it up with an eyeroll and a comment on the width of Joe’s grin.

Joe rolled his own eyes, and didn’t bother dimming down the smile. So what if Andy knew that he’d developed something of a crush on the guy he’d met _literally_ in the midst of a break-up? Andy knew everything, there was no point in trying to hide it.

No point in trying to deny it, either. He and Nicky had been texting since their first coffee together—and had managed to meet up again several times since. Nicky had told Joe what had happened with his now ex-boyfriend—he hadn’t gone to the dinner, hadn’t even texted the guy until the next day. He was understandably still upset, but Joe got the impression that the way the asshole had broken it off had at least helped Nicky see that he was better off without him.

Still, there were moments where Nicky would get a faraway look in his eyes, or would wince in the middle of a sentence. Whenever that happened, Joe made it his mission to make Nicky smile again, and was rewarded more often than not.

And, shit. The way that Nicky’s smile made Joe feel was something he wasn’t sure he’d ever felt before, and he knew he needed to put a lid on it—

Because as happy as he was to be open with his feelings around Andy and Booker, he wasn’t enough of an asshole to make a move. That would just be tactless, considering.

That still didn’t stop him from feeling warm the moment that Nicky walked in through the door.

It had taken Nicky a while to decide upon exactly what he wanted, but the moment his general idea became something solid he did not waver further. It was interesting, seeing the difference in him about this design compared to the hesitancy he had shown the first time he had come into the studio.

“Ready?” Joe asked him. He’d already made up a stencil, using the piece of paper Nicky had given him the last time they’d met, seemingly torn from a notepad.

“Yes.” Nicky settled in the chair—and when Joe showed him the stencil, his smile was bright and excited.

non piegato, non rotto

Joe made quick work of positioning Nicky’s arm, and took the stencil back.

“Aren’t you going to ask me if I’m sure?” Nicky asked, his lips curling up into a smirk.

“Nicolò, you speak Italian far better than me,” Joe said, already concentrating as he arranged the stencil on the inside of Nicky’s left wrist. “If it’s wrong, I’m afraid this one is entirely on you.”

Nicky laughed, and the sound caused Joe’s fingers to falter for a second. Thankfully, Nicky didn’t seem to notice, and Joe continued to prepare what he needed.

The whole process didn’t take very long—as much as Joe would have loved to drag any time with Nicky out as long as possible, he didn’t want Nicky to have to be uncomfortable any longer than necessary. But the script was simple enough, the thin lines quick and easy to trace, and it wasn’t much time at all before Nicolò’s new tattoo was done.

“Unbent, unbroken,” Joe said, admiring his work. Nicky had written the words in his own hand, rather than opting for a font. “I think it’s perfect.”

“I agree.”

It was only when he looked up that Joe realised just how close together they were. He was used to the proximity while he was working, but now that he was finished—and since it was _Nicky—_

Joe cleared his throat, and leaned back. “I’m glad you like it! Here, let me cover it up, I’ll show you what you need to do to look after it.”

He made sure he was gentle as he smeared ointment over the words, then covered them. Nicky watched carefully, and asked a few questions, and again the whole thing was over far too quickly.

It was _ridiculous_ how warmed Joe was by the fact that Nicky stayed while he cleaned up, just… chatting. And when it came time for Nicky to leave, they both lingered near the counter.

“Coffee?” Nicky asked, his eyes bright.

“I have another client,” Joe admitted—but when Nicky’s expression dimmed a little, Joe tugged on his arm. “I’m free later though, if you want to do something else?”

Nicky seemed to pause for a moment. “Dinner?”

Joe knew it was stupid to get his hopes up. He _knew_ it. He’d barely known Nicky a month, and the month had started with Nicky breaking up. It was just going to be a dinner as friends.

“Sounds nice,” Joe agreed, keeping his smile light.

“I’ll see you later then,” Nicky replied.

And as the door closed shut behind Nicky as he left, Joe felt his own smile finally fall.

Oh, fuck. This was bad.

—~—

Joe was in trouble.

Scratch that—Joe was in deep, _deep_ shit.

He’d noticed right from the beginning that Nicky was attractive, and look, attraction he could deal with. He was perfectly capable of shoving _that_ right down deep, especially when it was clear that Nicky was going to be everything _but_ interested in him.

But… Joe had been feeling more than just attraction for quite a while.

He’d be lying if he said it crept up on him. Such a thing was pretty much unthinkable—the warmth he felt for Nicky was something bright and burning and impossible to ignore.

Which, really, was pretty much the whole problem—

Because _shit,_ he couldn’t ignore it. Every moment with Nicky was like a dream, and every moment without him was spent dreaming of their next meeting. Nicky was invading Joe’s every thought, his soft smile sitting on the edges of Joe’s mind, the memory of his touch glancing through every moment. He wanted nothing more than to be by Nicky’s side, to hold his hand and kiss his palm and—

Yeah.

 _Deep_ shit.

Because… Nicky didn’t like Joe that way. His smiles stayed the same as they always were, his jokes as dry as they always had been. He was the best friend that Joe could ever have asked for, and he knew that Nicky felt comfortable in his presence. Casual touches had become something of a habit, and Nicky never smiled as softly as he did when he had his head in Joe’s lap. But, none of that meant he liked Joe as anything _more_ than a friend.

It had been weeks, _months_ of dreaming, of wishing, of _yearning,_ and shit but—sometimes, when he thought too hard about it, Joe felt like he was starting to fall apart—

Then he’d see Nicky for coffee, or Nicky would come to the studio to drop off some baklava—and promptly defend the box from Andy when she tried to filch some before Joe could. They’d take a walk through the park, or go for dinner, or just sit and _be_ together, and… and everything would feel totally fine.

Joe would have those moments where he wished he could reach out and hold Nicky’s hand, where he wished for something more than what he had—but so long as Nicky was there, it didn’t hurt. It didn’t _matter,_ because Nicky was _there,_ by Joe’s side.

No, it only hurt when he was left alone with his thoughts, when he was reminded that actually… he didn’t have Nicky in every way that he wanted.

“Oh, come on, enough of this shit.”

Joe glanced up from the pattern he had been designing, his eyes widening when he saw Andy standing over him with her arms crossed.

“Just ask him out, Joe. Worst he can do is say no.”

“Worst he can do is _leave,”_ Joe corrected, not even bothering to deny that she’d managed to guess his thoughts. Not, of course, that it would have been hard. His thoughts really did have something of a common theme these days. “And, sorry, but I think not being able to see him at all would be _worse_.”

Andy stared for a moment. “You’re an idiot.”

“Yes,” Joe agreed. “I know. I fell for a guy who doesn’t want me back—”

“I’ll say it again,” Andy cut in. “You’re an _idiot.”_

When Joe just stared at her, her expression scrunched and she groaned in exasperation.

“Of course he wants you back, asshole. Do you not see the way he looks at you?”

Joe shook his head. It didn’t happen often, but—Andy was wrong. “He was with that fucking bastard for two years,” he said. “And I was the one with him when all that shit went down. He doesn’t want to be with me.”

Andy turned, curses spewing from her mouth, but Joe just sighed.

If Nicky liked him back, surely he would have said something by now—and if he didn’t, Joe wasn’t about to say something himself and possibly make Nicky uncomfortable.

 _That,_ after all, was certainly the very last thing he wanted.

—~—

It wasn’t unusual for Nicky to come into the studio toward the end of one of Joe’s late shifts.

Oh, he never came in when Joe was with a client—just when he was cleaning up, or when Nicky knew that he would be on a break. Nicky finished work just before Joe most days and often brought food, or coffee, or an offer to cook dinner. It _was_ unusual, however, for Nicky to storm right into the studio without even knocking and press Joe up against the counter, his hands either side of Joe’s hips as he leaned far too close for Joe’s heart to take lightly.

“Andy phoned me,” Nicky said by way of greeting. “She told me that she’s going to fire you.”

“What?” Joe exclaimed—and he wouldn’t admit it aloud, but the word did come out as something rather like a squeak. That was _not_ what he had been expecting. Not that he knew what he _was_ expecting from this, but— _what the hell?_ “ _No._ Why would she—”

“Apparently,” Nicky interrupted, “You’ve been having trouble concentrating.”

Well, uh. That shut Joe up more effectively than anything else possibly could have.

“It was quite interesting, actually,” Nicky continued, his voice suddenly turning conversational. He was going to give Joe whiplash—and he was still so incredibly _close_. “She’s under the impression that _I_ am the reason for your distraction. I told her that if I was causing a problem, I wouldn’t mind not coming to the studio anymore.”

“You can’t do that,” Joe said quickly. “Andy would probably riot if you stopped bringing baklava.”

“She said the same thing,” Nicky said, expression serious—and Joe tried not to focus on the way that it made the skin between his eyes crinkle adorably. “But, she also said there was something else I could do that might help, since she seems to think you will never do anything to fix the apparent problem unless I make the first move.”

Joe opened his mouth to reply—

But, well. Turns out he was wrong earlier—there _was,_ in fact, a more effective way of shutting him up.

Nicky’s lips were soft and warm against his own, tasting of sweet baklava and bitter coffee, and Joe fell into the kiss with complete abandon. It didn’t matter that he still hadn’t quite worked out what was happening, that his brain hadn’t caught up with Nicky’s forward lurch—the only thing that mattered was the press of Nicky’s lips, the stroke of his tongue, the warmth of his skin.

Joe’s eyes fell closed as he buried one hand in Nicky’s hair, the other pressing into the small of Nicky’s back. Nicky had a hand on Joe’s cheek, and the feel of it was grounding, holding Joe in the present and stopping him from falling into nothingness. He might have whined, he might have moaned, he wasn’t sure—he just held Nicky close and _kissed_ him, pouring months of wanting into every touch.

When Nicky began to lean back, Joe pushed closer, pressing his lips to Nicky’s again after taking only a small breath, not wanting the moment to end. Not wanting to crash back to reality—

But when they parted, Nicky was _smiling,_ and Joe thought that he’d never seen anything more perfect.

“So, what do you say?” Nicky asked, his voice breathless but still softly amused. “Does that fix the problem?”

“It might,” Joe replied. “But—wait. Andy told you to do _that?”_

“Well, no,” Nicky admitted. “She actually told me to just ‘fuck you against a wall already’ but, I thought I probably didn’t need to be quite that extreme.”

Joe let out something that might have been a strangled laugh. He wasn’t really concentrating on himself, to be honest. It would have been difficult to do so, with Nicky _right there._

“Remind me to thank her,” Joe replied. “Uh. Later.”

“Later,” Nicky agreed.

And when Nicky kissed him again, Joe just held him close and let the rest of the world fade away.

—~—

Being with Nicky was like all that Joe had dreamed—well, if he was being honest, it was all and more.

Oh, they had their arguments and disagreements, but – Nicky’s taste in coffee notwithstanding – they managed to get through every single one. They _talked,_ they learned the things that the other couldn’t cope with, the things that could be compromised on. They learned how to be together in the most natural of ways, and Joe didn’t think he’d ever been happier than he was with Nicky at his side.

The time flew by quickly, happiness and joy melting the weeks away, and by the time it had been a year since they had met, Joe realised that he felt like Nicky was it for him.

And yes, he knew that in the grand scheme of things, a year wasn’t a long time to have known someone. He knew that he and Nicky still had a lot of growing and learning to do, but he so wanted to do that together. He _wanted_ to keep waking up with Nicky wrapped in his arms, wanted to watch Nicky making disgusting coffee alongside a mug filled with milky, sugary goodness that Nicky himself claimed to despise. He loved just sitting on the couch, leaning half-asleep into Nicky’s side while some Italian movie Joe almost entirely understood played in the background. In fact, he loved it so much that he decided to tell Nicky so.

“I’m so glad you’re here with me,” Joe mumbled, lifting his chin to press a kiss to the curve of Nicky’s throat.

“And I’m glad that we found each other,” Nicky said, his voice soft as one of his hands trailed over Joe’s arm—and Joe recognised Nicky’s newly developed habit of tracing Joe’s tattoos.

“So am I,” Joe replied. “ _Very_ glad. I mean, I _am_ sorry that you had to get hurt for it to happen, but… I’m glad, about how things are now.”

“Maybe it _needed_ to happen,” Nicky replied, his tone thoughtful. “If I had not made the mistake of trying to get that tattoo, we would not have met. Perhaps it was like… destiny.”

Joe glanced up at that, curious.

Nicky often said that Joe was an incurable romantic, because he liked to tell Nicky how he felt in every way he could think of. But there were times when Nicky would just come out and say small little things like that which would cause Joe’s heart to stutter.

To be honest, he’d never really put much stock in stuff like destiny, soulmates, or love at first sight. Things just didn’t _happen_ that way. In his opinion, if you loved someone, it was because you had come to know them, because you had spent the time and the effort of being together and _learning_ every part of them—just as he and Nicky had. But… he couldn’t deny that he liked the thought of it, that even though they had forged their connection themselves, just the pure potential of it had been enough for the stars to shift and align so that they could have the chance.

“Like destiny,” Joe echoed, smiling. “You know, I think you might be right.”

It certainly felt that way, like meeting Nicolò had caused some part of him to realign, like they had belonged at each other’s side the whole time.

“And you know what else?” Joe said, shifting so that he was sitting straighter, one hand coming up to rest on the side of Nicky’s cheek. “I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you.”

“That’s good,” Nicky replied. “Because I’m more than sure that I’m in love with you.”

Every kiss between them had always felt like a first, and yet they had always felt familiar. Every time a thrill, every time a comfort, every time a perfect, perfect dance of adoration and desire. This one was no different, soft and gentle and pulling smiles from them both like nothing else ever could.

Nicky was stroking Joe’s cheek when it ended, the light in his eyes so blinding that Joe didn’t think he could ever look way.

 _Yes,_ Joe thought, turning his head so that he could press his lips to the words that were inked along the inside of Nicky’s wrist, still standing as a monument to Nicky’s strength. _This is where I want to be forever._

—~—

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Joe asked, his fingers tightening slightly around Nicky’s.

“Amore mio, I have not been more certain in a very long time,” Nicky replied, squeezing Joe’s hand in return. “I love you, more than anything. I hope you know that.”

“I do know that,” Joe replied, feeling his usual Nicky-induced smile making its way across his lips. “I love you too, ya amar. This year together has been the best of my life, the brightest I could have hoped for. Being with you is like seeing the stars for the first time, like feeling the warmth of the sun on my skin. You’re everything to me, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

“You’re everything to me as well,” Nicky replied.

“Oh, shut up, the both of you,” Andy interrupted, kicking Joe underneath the table that the three of them were sitting around. “Joe, stop trying to do my job for me.”

“Don’t tell me you’re going to declare your love for Nicky as well,” Joe gasped. “Because if you are, this could get awkward real fast.”

“I know you like the baklava, Andy,” Nicky said. “But I am afraid that my heart is taken.”

“Just save it for your wedding,” Andy huffed—though Joe knew her well enough to recognise the fondness in her expression. “Now, are you happy with these? And a yes or a no will suffice. Unlike some people, I don’t need a poem.”

Joe couldn’t help the chuckle, but it faded to a warmer smile as he looked down at the stencil he held in his hand—and the matching one that Nicky held in his.

They were perfect.

“Yes,” Joe said, lifting his gaze to Andy. “I think they’re—”

“That’s all I needed,” Andy said quickly. “Nicky?”

“Perfect,” Nicky nodded, helpfully finishing Joe’s sentence. He wasn’t looking at Andy, though—and Joe turned and met his gaze, still smiling.

Andy was muttering something again, probably asking who was going first, but Joe wasn’t really listening. He was focused on the press of Nicky’s hand in his own, and the curve of Nicky’s lips.

No matter what Andy seemed to think, this wasn’t quite as big as a wedding – though Joe _had_ dragged Nicky’s best friend Nile ring shopping a couple weeks ago – but it was still a big step. It meant a lot to the both of them, and looking back at the words that they were just about to get inked onto their skin in each other’s own hand… well.

Joe knew that the happiness he felt was going to last a very long time.

مثل القدر

come il destino

_Like destiny._


End file.
